by Bobbi Smith
It had been in a fit of drunken despair that he'd left her in the middle of the night after having made love to her for rapturous hours on end. Their coming together had been ecstasy. It had been perfect. It had been his dream come true, holding her in his arms, loving her with all his heart, mind, body and soul. Yet when he'd awakened in a cold sweat from the horror of his recurring dream of James's death, he had known he had to leave her. He could not live a lie. He could not take her for his wife, though it was the one thing on earth that he wanted more than anything else.
And so he had done the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. He'd denied himself that which he wanted most Mary Catherine's love. He'd left her as she lay sleeping. His note of explanation to her had been short and cold. He never made another effort to contact her. She was better off without him.
Images of what his life had been since they'd parted played in his mind as Paul found a quiet place to pray.
It was a long time later when he returned to the house and went to bed.
It was in the predawn darkness that Glynna and Mimi were roused from their sleep. Glynna had been sleeping lightly, for she was excited about the day to come. She was up, dressed and ready to go in a very short time. She was waiting out front with Diego when Mimi came downstairs.
"Are you ready to go now?" Diego asked. He had loaded all the painting supplies on their packhorse and he was ready to mount up if they were.
Mimi glanced back toward the house and wondered where Paul was. He'd said the day before that he would be riding with them, and she'd expected him to be outside ready to go, too.
"Is Paul coming?" she asked Diego.
"No, ma'am," he answered. "He rode out a little while ago. He said it was important that he use this time to visit the other ranches nearby."
Mimi quickly hid her shock at his words. She asked herself why she was surprised by Paul's leaving. She knew she should have expected as much from him. She busied herself with getting ready to ride out. "Then let's get going. The dawn's going to be here before we know it."
Glynna had sensed that her aunt was distressed by Paul's absence. She found it a bit strange, too, that he would say he was accompanying them and then decide against it at the last minute. She knew that her aunt and Paul had spent some time together the night before, and she wondered what had transpired between them.
Telling herself that it was none of her business, Glynna mounted her horse. As she did, she caught sight of Hunt standing in the stable door, looking their way. He looked so ruggedly handsome in his tight denim pants, light-colored shirt and boots that her breath caught in her throat. When he did not call out in greeting or acknowledge her in any way, her spirits sank. After their conversation the night before, she'd thought they were coming to be friends.
Determined not to let him think that she cared whether he noticed her or not, Glynna put all thoughts of Hunt from her mind and concentrated on the adventure ahead. She'd traveled for days and covered hundreds of miles just for this moment. She was bound and determined to take full advantage of her time painting! Nothing was going to stop her from having a wonderful adventure today not even the thought that Hunt McAllister acted as if he didn't know she existed.
Glynna did not look back in Hunt's direction. She did not see him watching her until they had gone from sight.
Dawn found her working at her easel on the bank of the river that crossed the Rocking M.The sky was a rainbow of color: vibrant aqua, streaked with varying shades of white, pink and gold. She was trying her best to recreate the beauty on her canvas, but there was little time. She had to work fast.
Silence surrounded her. The quiet seemed to stimulate her creativity. She let her imagination reign as she listened to the sound of the river's flow and the chirping of the birds as they welcomed the new day.
The sun was high in the sky and it was growing warm when Glynna finally stopped and stepped back to study the canvas. What she'd managed to capture was a good start, but she planned to work on it more back in her room later.
"How are you coming along?" Mimi called from where she sat resting in the shade.
"Fine. I'm ready to stop for now. I can finish it later," Glynna answered, cleaning her brushes. She was more than pleased with their excursion.
With Diego's help, they packed up their things again and headed back. As they rode in, they saw two strange horses tied to the hitching rail in front of the house.
"Looks like we have company," Diego told them.
As they dismounted, Tom appeared on the porch. Glynna and Mimi were surprised to see that the sheriff and one of the deputies from Dry Creek were with him.
"I told you they'd be back around noon," Tom said to Sheriff Dunn. "How did it go, Glynna?"
"It was wonderful, Tom. Thank you." Carrying her paint box, she was already heading for the porch. "Hello, Sheriff Dunn. I hadn't expected to see you again. Is something wrong?"
"Miss Williams, Mrs. Randall," he said, nodding to them. "Deputy Spencer here has been talking to Hank and they've come up with an idea. It sounded good to me, so I thought we should ride out here and talk to you about it."
Glynna was puzzled. "Of course. You know Aunt Mimi and I will do whatever we can to help you catch that gang."
"I was hoping you'd say that," the sheriff said with a smile.
"Let's go on inside and sit for a while, so he can tell you what he's got in mind," Tom suggested. "Diego, you go ahead and take care of the horses and the rest of Miss Glynna's things."
"Yes, Senor Tom." Diego hurried to do as his boss had ordered while the rest of them went indoors.
"Miss Williams," the sheriff began.
"Please, call me Glynna."
"Glynna," he repeated with a smile, "Hank was telling Deputy Spencer that you're an artist. The two of them got to thinking. They were wondering if you could remember what the members of the gang looked like and maybe draw some pictures of them for us?"
Glynna frowned and glanced quickly at her aunt. "They were wearing masks, so we could see only their eyes. I remember a little, but-"
"If you could do sketches of them, it sure would give us a better chance of catching them. We could make up wanted posters and get them out for people to see."
"I'll help you, Glynna," Mimi offered, hoping that between the two of them they could come up with fairly decent likenesses of the outlaws.
"Would just drawings of them with their masks on be good enough?"
"Whatever you can remember about them and get down on paper would be more than we have right now," Sheriff Dunn told her, his frustration obvious. "They're a slippery bunch dangerous, too. I want to put them behind bars where they belong."
"How soon do you want the drawings?"
"How long would it take you to do them?"
"Half an hour, maybe?"
"That fast?" The deputy was impressed.
"Let me see what I can do. I'll have to get my sketchbook. I left it up in my room."
She went upstairs and returned to join them a short time later, sketchbook and pencil in hand. "I'd better sit at the table. It will be easier for me that way."
Mimi went with her, while the men waited expectantly in the other room. Glynna and Mimi hovered over the sketchbook as she tried to re-create the faces of the men who'd so terrified them that day. It took the better part of an hour, but at last she finished the final picture.
"You can come take a look now," Glynna called out.
They were beside her quickly, staring down at the four drawings she'd spread out on the table.
"This one was called Will," she told them as she pointed to the picture of the man who'd thrown her paint box away as if it had no value. She would never forget him. "Then there was Chuck and Eli. Eli seemed to be the leader. The other man stayed off to the side and kept a gun on everybody. He was the one who drove off the horses."
Sheriff Dunn, Deputy Spencer and Tom studied the drawings for a long minute.
"I don't recognize any of them right off,"
the sheriff said in disappointment. He looked up at Glynna. "I was hoping I'd recognize one of them right away."
"I understand. They're a mean bunch. It would be good if they were locked up."
"It would be very good."
"How is Hank, Deputy?" Mimi asked, thinking of the wounded guard.
"He's up and moving now."
"When you get back to town, please tell him `hello' for us."
"I'll do that."
"Can I pay you for these pictures?" Sheriff Dunn asked.
"Heavens, no, Sheriff. I hope they help."
"I do, too."
The lawmen left then, taking the four drawings with them. They planned to put wanted posters up around Dry Creek, and they were going to have copies of them printed and sent to neighboring towns, too.
Tom, Glynna and Mimi enjoyed a light lunch together, and Glynna told their host all about her out ing that morning. She showed him the painting she'd started.
"This is very good," Tom said, impressed with her use of color. "Was it really that pretty this morning?"
"It was prettier," she admitted. "I plan to work on it some more this afternoon."
"You did a fine job. It's no wonder they're asking for your paintings back in New York City."
Glynna actually felt herself blushing at his praise.
"I was a little surprised when I got up this morning and found Paul all ready to ride out," Tom said, making conversation.
"We were, too," Glynna said.
"Last night, I know, he was planning on going with us. I don't know what caused him to change his mind," Mimi added.
"I guess he just had to move on."
"He does do that," Mimi said, keeping her anger out of her voice. She told herself she didn't care about Paul Chandler.
"Have you known the reverend for a long time?" Tom asked.
"Oh, yes, for more than twenty-five years. He was a friend of my husband's back in New York."
"Paul's a good man. The people around here truly appreciate him."
"It's good to know that he finally found his calling," Mimi said with a smile that seemed a little tight. She hoped Tom didn't notice.
"He wasn't the preacher type back in New York City?"
At that, Mimi had to laugh. "Oh, no. In his early days, he enjoyed his gambling and liquor."
Tom chuckled. "Well, of Paul hasn't given them up completely. That man can still play one mean hand of poker."
"Paul's beaten you, has he?"
"Quite a few times." He was grinning. "Once, he needed some more money for building the church, so he came into the saloon and challenged us to a pretty high-stakes poker game. We were thinking that he was only a preacher man and that he couldn't be any good at gambling. We learned our lesson real quick."
"How did he do, raising money for the church?" Glynna asked, laughing at the thought of the reverend winning handily at the gaming tables for a godly cause.
"As soon as he had the amount he needed, he quit the game."
"Paul always did cut and run," Mimi remarked.
"He may have cut his losses, but he didn't run this time," Tom said. "He got that church built in real good time, and the gambling men respected him for it, too. Most of them show up pretty regular for his services."
"He does give an interesting sermon," Glynna said.
"Heard him, did you?"
"Sunday morning, and he was very good. The church was full," Glynna replied.
"People appreciate a good preacher, somebody who knows what he's talking about. He's not just shouting at them and telling them that they're all going to Hell. He's speaking from experience. They respect him, because they know he understands what they're going through."
"Where's Hunt?" Mimi asked, directing the conversation away from talk of Paul. The way she was feeling right then, if Tom said another nice word about Paul, she just might scream. She was rather proud of the fact that she was managing to control her emotions so well.
"He and Gib are out checking on the herd today, but they should be back before too long."
Glynna was glad her aunt had asked. She had to admit that she'd been wondering where Hunt was, too. She'd looked for him as they'd returned, but had seen no sign of him out by the stables.
"Is he going to work with Warrior again tonight?" Mimi asked. She certainly wanted to be there to watch, if he was.
"I'm sure he will. He's determined to saddle-break that horse. Warrior's a stubborn one, though. He's giving Hunt a run for his money, that's for sure," Tom told them, smiling as he thought of how hard his son had been working with the stallion. "Most horses don't give Hunt this much trouble."
"It probably means that Warrior is the smartest horse he's ever broken."
"I believe you're right about that," he agreed. "That's why he wants him. That's why he's being so patient with him. He appreciates a good piece of horseflesh, and Warrior's the best we have on the ranch."
They went upstairs to rest for a while after eating lunch, but Glynna was too excited even to think about lying down. She wanted to keep working. While they'd been talking to Tom, she'd come up with the most wonderful idea for the painting she was going to give him, and she wanted to get started on it right away.
Dragging her easel and supplies with her, Glynna let herself quietly out of the house. She didn't want Tom to hear her and possibly follow her. This picture was going to be a surprise. A shady spot a short distance away gave Glynna the panoramic view of the ranch house and outbuildings she'd wanted, so she went to work. Her inspiration was to create a painting of the Rocking M, with Warrior in the corral, and in the center of the picture, like a painting within a painting, she was going to put a portrait of Tom.
It was going to be her most ambitious effort so far, but she thought she could do it. She certainly was going to try.
Hunt smiled to himself as he rode the powerful stallion around the corral. The headstrong mount had finally been curbed. He'd just spent several hours working with him again, and he was satisfied with the progress they'd made. He dismounted finally and led Warrior into the stable.
"Do you think he's fully broken now?" Mimi asked as she followed Hunt to watch him rub Warrior down.
"After today, yes," Hunt told her, giving her a slight smile. In spite of his intentions, he was coming to like this elegant woman from back east. She was pretty and intelligent, and she always talked to him as if she truly respected and valued his opinions.
"He's worth all the work you've put into him."
Hunt stroked Warrior's neck. "I know."
"If you ever want to sell him, I'll be first in line."
"No, I've waited too long to own a horse like this. I won't be selling him."
"If you change your mind, just let me know," she told him, smiling. She saw the pride in his expression as he cared for the horse, and knew he'd never part with the stallion. "I'll see you at dinner."
As she came out of the stable, Mimi caught sight of Glynna working at her easel a short distance away. She thought about going to speak to her, but knew she was concentrating and needed to work uninterrupted. There would be time later to see what she'd created this afternoon.
Hunt finished tending to Warrior and started out to the bunkhouse to get cleaned up and ready for dinner. It was near dusk, and he was tired. It had been a long day.
Hunt noticed Glynna in the distance at her easel. Though common sense told him to keep going, he found himself heading toward her. He told himself he was going over to speak to her because he hadn't seen any of her work except for the sketches that first day. He walked up from behind her and managed to get a look at her work without Glynna knowing he was there.
"You are good."
The sound of Hunt's voice so close behind her startled Glynna. She'd been concentrating and hadn't noticed him approaching.
"Oh Thank you," she said, turning to him, her paintbrush still in hand. She was surprised to see him, and her smile of welcome was a bit tentative. For some reason, Hunt definitely ha
d the ability to unsettle her.
Hunt moved nearer and stood beside her, gazing down at the painting with open interest. Before him on the canvas was a panoramic view of the ranch, and it was impressive. What touched him the most, though, was the portrait of his father staring back at him from the center of the picture. Somehow, Glynna had managed to capture the true essence of his personality. There was a glimmer of good humor shining in his eyes, and the half smile that was only his curved his mouth. The portrait within the painting was a wonderful effect.
"I knew from your sketchbook that day at the stage that you had talent, but this is wonderful," he said in true appreciation. "I've never seen anything like this before."
"Thanks. Your father's a very special man, and I wanted to give him a present for letting Aunt Mimi and me stay with you."
"That's very kind of you." Hunt looked at her, and for the first time, he smiled.
His smile affected Glynna profoundly, and her heartbeat quickened. She stared up at him, amazed by the transformation of his features. He had gone from serious and almost threatening to gentle and good-natured in just that instant, and she found him completely and devastatingly appealing.
"You should do that more often," she said in an almost breathless voice.
"Do what?" His smile disappeared immediately, and he frowned, not understanding what she meant.
"Smile," she answered gently.
"Oh." He did not smile.
"Would you like to see what else I' ve been working on?"
He nodded, and she went to unwrap the canvas she'd put carefully aside. She'd brought along the picture of Hunt that she'd started, just in case she felt the inspiration to do more with it while she was outside.
"What do you think?" She held up the painting for him to see. "That's how you looked the first time I saw you."
Hunt was shocked. He was staring at a likeness of himself bare to the waist, riding at top speed and leaning low over his horse's neck. Glynna was a far better artist than she realized. She was insightful. She had captured the warrior in him. The man in the image was not Hunt McAllister, but Lone Hunter.
